


Loneliness Breeds Strange Notions

by bunnyfication



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-23
Updated: 2013-09-23
Packaged: 2017-12-27 09:33:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,818
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/977201
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bunnyfication/pseuds/bunnyfication
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Most imaginary friends don't turn real. But how real is a personification of a country himself, anyway?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Loneliness Breeds Strange Notions

One day, a child realized he was not human.

He'd gone only for a while, to wander about in the woods and mountains and shores, and when he returned, he could not recognize a single face. The house that had been newly built when he left was grey and rotting. In the flicker of an eye, all had changed. But he had not.

Perhaps it was then (he cannot remember, having been so young), that he came up with the Other. Someone like him, someone who was not a transient human, there one moment and gone the next. A friend, a playmate, someone...and once he listened to a grown man, talking of another person with pride and affection, and the boy whispered to himself, _"a wife."_

This Other didn't have a name at first, but it hardly mattered when the boy wasn't sure if he had one himself. Sometimes people called him by this or that name, but it was seldom the same one, and he often wondered if they'd simply mistaken him for someone else.

He wondered where the Other was. Looked for him, far and wide. He wasn't in a hurry; after all, he had all the time in the world. Perhaps the Other was hiding from him? Were they playing a game? That was it, the boy decided, his chest tingling with excitement. It had been a long time since he'd got to play with anyone.

He went to the seashore, looked over the wide expanse of waves, and wondered what the Other looked like. Suddenly a loose stone rolled under his foot when he stepped on it. He fell with a cry, and got up rubbing his sore ankle, when a glint on something bright caught his eye.

It was an old pendant, the silver chain broken and blackened beyond repair, but the amethyst set into it was still bright and clear. He took it carefully in his hand, admiring the colour. Cool, and yet it had warmth to it. And mystery, the way he couldn't say for sure whether it was blue or violet. The eyes of the one he was looking for had to be this same colour, the boy decided, as he hid the pendant again.

The boy went to the mountains, where there was little but rock and low, tenacious plants, clinging to the earth. He bent over a stream to drink; freezing cold water running over sleek stones and sand, and decided the Other's hair had to be the same exact shade. A simple, earthy colour, nothing flashy, but beautiful nevertheless.

And now that he knew what the Other looked like, he set out to find him in earnest. He looked in the houses first, and then the forest. Both had a lot of hiding places.

Still, the Other had to be a bit mischievous. Maybe he thought it fun, changing his hiding place whenever the boy grew near. Perhaps sometimes he waited until the last moment before escaping, and he boy had probably heard the rustle sometimes. Or maybe it had been only a young deer, he couldn't really know.

Or perhaps the Other was shy. Certainly the boy had sometimes gone right past him, and the Other had hid with baited breath, his heart beating hard with a mixture of fear and excitement. Maybe the Other wanted to call out, end the game already, but didn't dare.

However, with time, the boy found that he could not remain idle forever. The older humans began to notice him. Now and again one of them would lead him to their house, where they'd make him stay. Some made him learn things; some just kept him around like a strange pet, as if they weren't sure what to do with him. Sometimes they forgot him eventually and he could sneak away, and sometimes another tall person came to take him with them.

When he was learning things, he might forget the Other, and the game that they were still playing. But then he'd look up, and something would remind him again. He hoped the Other wasn't growing impatient...no, he would not be like that. He'd be patient and sweet, but not weak, not as fragile as the humans. Of course not.

One day, the boy looked at his reflection in the still water of the millpond. He had square, sharp features, like a half finished wood statue, the chisel marks still visible. His mouth tilted downwards, and his eyebrows were two angry slashes. He frowned at himself, and the image only grew worse. What if, the boy wondered, the Other hid because he was _afraid_ of him?

The boy was taller by then, not a small child anymore, if not quite a man either. He was told the time to play was almost over, that soon he'd have bigger responsibilities. But he had still not found the Other. By now he could almost see him. His soft, sandy hair and those mysterious eyes. A face with the roundness of childhood, but with a serious, mature expression, one that often melted into a smile where his own could not.

Then, one day some of his people set out on a journey behind the sea, to trade with the people there. The boy realized he'd never gone to look at that particular place, so he went with them. His current caretaker didn't even notice when he slipped away.

No one in the boat asked him why he was there either, though a few of them did give him a long, puzzled look. When someone asked, he said his name was Berwald. It was as good a name as any.

On the way over, everyone told stories they'd heard, of kings and ancient heroes, of mermaids and other creatures that might help a man or lure him to his death on their whim. An old man who had travelled far and wide showed a cross hanging from his neck. It seemed to have a figure carved to it, his or her hands flung wide. It was the One God, the man said, and boasted the amulet had brought him safely through many a storm.

He was a good storyteller, and the others listened to him quietly, hardly jeering even at the most improbable details. The boy looked to the sea, squinting against the salty wind. The further they went, the surer he became that this was it. This was the place where he'd finally meet him, the Other.

"T' place we're going, what's it called, who lives there?" he asked quietly of the old man, after he'd grown tired of telling stories.

The man answered, and the boy considered the answer for a long time, all the time until they could see the shore before them. He still thought about it as they had to jump into the cold water to haul the boat ashore.

By the time they made camp in a strange forest that night, he had still not come to a conclusion. Therefore he tossed and turned, and when he finally fell asleep, the sleep was light. Through the dream, he heard quiet footsteps grow near himself. Could hear a soft breath, and battled himself awake, keeping his breathing even so as not to show it.

He did not want to spook the Other, after all, not before...he opened one eye, and was, even thought he'd been so sure, almost surprised to indeed see the shadowed figure above him.

He meant to wait patiently, to see if the other would stay, but thinking of how long he'd looked for...Berwald could not. Instead, he grasped out fast, and sat up, holding on as the other tried to pull back.

_"No..!"_

"Mean n' harm, please d'n't go," Berwald whispered urgently, and the other stilled.

He could see him better now, in the light summer night, and he was almost as he had imagined. Round and soft, with a hidden strength under it all, one only seen to one who was looking for it.

"Finland," Berwald said, knowing it suddenly.

*

Sweden lost him later, of course, and it felt like being cut in half, or worse. Phantom pain, he thought as he curled up in his far too big bed, alone. More alone than he'd ever been, because before he hadn't had anyone to miss.

He told himself later it was for the best, even if the Finland who eventually returned to him was very different from the one who left. No worse or better, Sweden told himself, just different. He shouldn't wish for something that couldn't be, and he didn't, most of the time.

Thought sometimes...like when Åland was decreed to go to Finland, and Sweden had to lower his face to make sure the stricken child wouldn't see the relief on his face. Because as much as he'd have liked to take Åland in and keep him safe, Sweden also knew Finland would have hated him for it. Even though Åland had run to _him,_ a father he'd never met, and trusted him...poor child, to have such terrible parents.

 _"He wanted to...to kill me, I know he did!"_ Åland had truly believed it, he was sure.

"I promise, I'll...I'll take better care of him now," Finland told him afterwards, his shoulders stiff, but his eyes were earnest when he finally lifted his head. His hands were still bandaged, but they weren't bleeding anymore, Sweden noticed.

"...'es" he answered after a moment's hesitation, and Finland didn't smile, but he looked relieved nevertheless.

He seemed to look into the distance for a moment, and then at his bandaged hands. When Finland spoke, it was very quiet, almost like he was talking to himself.

"Do you know...sometimes I dream of disappearing. Always have. Of being held so tightly I cannot breathe anymore. And the worst is, sometimes I know it's someone who _loves_ me, and I...I don't even mind," he looked spooked even talking about it, and Sweden nodded seriously.

"I've dreams too," he said, and Finland looked up.

"Oh?"

Sweden thought of how to say it.

"Thing's 're good, but..."

How could he describe it? The creeping feeling of having lost something he couldn't even remember, of the world being too wide...

A hand pressed to his lips, stalling any words he might have found. Coarse fingertips and softer linen. Finland shook his head, smiling just a little.

"It's ok," he said softly. "It _will_ be ok like this."

Then he grinned, just a little bit mad and wild and predatory, all of the things Sweden had sworn to cast aside himself, but couldn't help loving in his...in his once other half. Though he did wish Finland didn't talk with Germany so much...or worse, that brother of his.

"I have no intention of ever disappearing, not without a fight," Finland said.


End file.
